Fireworks
by Misss-Nightmare
Summary: Aziraphale shows Crowley something he's never seen before.


Crowley has just finished his daily round of threatening his plants when he hears a crash in the house, coming from the general direction of the kitchen. He freezes, spray bottle still in hand from watering the plants, and slowly creeps towards the area in question. He hears someone grunt, and what sounds like glass being swept across the tiled floor.

"Oh dear, he will not be happy about this," the angel says. Crowley stays behind the wall in between him and the newly appeared Aziraphale and listens. "I just can't seem to get anything right today. Maybe I'm going about it all wrong-"

"Going about what all wrong?" Crowley asks, turning the corner with a grin on his face. "Fancy to see you here, angel. I see you've broken my vase?"

Aziraphale stiffens and makes an apologetic face. "Oh, I didn't mean to, Crowley! It's just, when I came in, I - when I appeared I underestimated my true size and forgot my wings were still open and-"

Crowley waves him off. "Don't worry about it. It was ugly anyways," he says, snapping his fingers and causing the broken pieces to disappear. "What are you here for, anyways?"

His face lightens at that, and he smiles largely, a smile that could light a hundred houses if smiles could do such.

"I want to show you something. Come on, then," he says, offering his arm out to Crowley. "Take it."

"What, your arm?"

"No, my leg," the angel huffs, "Yes, my arm. You want to go with me, don't you?"

"Always," he replies, grabbing on.

The world flashes a bright white and then fades back into normality, well, as close as normality as you can get when you reappear on a rooftop in the middle of a busy city. It's dark out, and there are thousands of people crowded down below them, in the streets, and for what, Crowley does not know. Aziraphale straightens his jacket and miracles them two glasses of wine.

"What - what is going on? Where are we?" Crowley asks, taking the glass from the angel when offered, but not yet taking a sip. Aziraphale drinks before replying.

"America," he grins. "And it's its birthday today! July 4th, this country is celebrating its independence day. Have you ever seen the celebration?"

"No," he says, slowly looking around himself, then up towards the sky. There are tall buildings surrounding the one they are on, as far as the eye can see. Aziraphale is about to explain further about what the celebration is truly about when there is a flash of red sparks and a loud BANG that causes Crowley to nearly drop his glass.

"What the bloody hell was that!" He shouts, looking around the sky as if hoping to find some explanation. Below them, the people cheer. There is music playing, and more sparks start flying, and oh, is it beautiful.

"Fireworks," Aziraphale says, face full of wonder and excitement. "I do always love them. Have you really not seen them before?"

"Not once," Crowley replies, downing the contents of his glass afterwards and staring at the sky, watching for each explosion of color to appear.

"They really are beautiful. I love the blue ones best. I thought you would like to see them too, and to be quite honest I'm awfully glad you haven't seen them before."

"They are beautiful," Crowley agrees. They stand in silence watching them for a minute or so, until Aziraphale suggests that they sit down in order to be more comfortable.

There is a blanket there [1] and they sit upon it, so close together but not touching.

Aziraphale glances over at Crowley and smiles, before quickly turning his attention back to the sky. Crowley desperately wants to touch him, to make even the slightest bit of contact with the angel's skin, but he doesn't. He doesn't want to ruin this - whatever 'this' is.

Red, blue, and green flashes spark across the sky, each boom provoking Crowley's heart to skip a beat and make him even more nervous about the whole situation. He's never good with this, with reading Aziraphale, with figuring out what to do next when the timing seems so right.

"The first time I saw them, it was an accident," Aziraphale says, breaking the silence between them. "I just happened to be in America when celebrations were starting, and I met a fine young woman whom gladly explained the whole ordeal to me, so I didn't appear to be such a fool when I joined in with the watch parties."

Crowley was quite sure that absolutely no one called these 'watch parties', but he didn't voice this. Instead he just listens to Aziraphale express his fondness for it all.

"She had blonde hair - the woman did - and two delightful children. Oh, how I do hope she did well in life," he adds.

"I'm sure she did, Aziraphale," he reassures, even though he has no idea how the woman fared in life. For all he knows she could've died in a tragic car accident the day after last seeing the angel.

"I do like the purple ones as well," Aziraphale says excitedly, changing the subject abruptly, not that it was unusual for him.

Crowley nods in agreement.

"They're just so pretty," he says, glancing sideways at the demon. Crowley catches his eye and winks, smirking. Aziraphale immediately looks away, blushing furiously and trying his best to keep his composure.

That's about as close as they get to flirting that night, but it's enough. Enough to keep the hope alive in both of them that the other feels like same.

Maybe one day one of them will get the courage to make that leap.

[1] This had clearly been Aziraphale's doing, as it was tartan, and it had also not been there when they had first arrived.


End file.
